Originally mailed on August 2, 1996

I'm at Louella's, ostensibly keeping an eye on the kids, who are in fact playing at the neighbor's. I'm out here lounging on her porch, drinking her non-alcoholic beer and eating her potato chips, Flopsy sacked out at my feet like a 90-pound doormat. Babysitting's rough.

Louella is at her lawyer's. She's trying to get her ex-husband's wages garnisheed for the support money he owes her. Man, what a turn-around Sam has made since the divorce. You may remember that he supported Louella completely in her old house for some months, and used to be a very concerned dad, always calling the boys to say goodnight and dropping by every chance he got. For awhile they were sharing custody almost 50/50, even though Sam officially was awarded only every Saturday, alternate weekends, some holidays and vacation time.

Gradually he stopped making the nightly phone calls, then cut back on the extra visits, then cut back on visits altogether. At the same time, support checks started to be late, then to be smaller than they were supposed to be, and then they stopped coming. He wanted to be free to experience life as a gay man at its fullest and free-est, and didn't seem to care that he was leaving Louella to experience single motherhood at its most stressful and poverty-stricken.

Louella is getting by now with a secretarial job until she starts school in September. Her mother is taking care of the boys on weekdays. Once she starts school, she'll be able to manage on a combination of part-time work, student loans, and the nest egg she's got from selling her old house to move into a much smaller (though more charming, all agree) one. She shouldn't have it so rough, though. Sam makes very good money as some kind of computer guy and her child support is supposed to be quite the chunk of change every month, if only she were getting it.

But enough about Louella's troubles. She's dealing with them as best she can. Let's get on to my troubles.

Actually, I have some news that's good. I got a good raise at work with my annual review, enough so I'll notice it when the paycheck comes. That feels pretty good. Still not enough to get a one-bedroom apartment, unfortunately. I'm still paying off my credit card bills from the move up here two years ago, and that eats up a lot of my money every month. Eight or nine months from now when I'm done with that I'll notice a real difference in my finances.

I made a mistake when I fantasized about moving in with Nona. I liked to imagine what it would feel like to live in a house with rooms. I expected to spread out a little. Nona's daughter's room is practically empty now and I pretended it was going to be mine. I even figured out what color I'd paint the walls.

I'm not going to be living with Nona, as you know, and now I'm dissatisfied with my efficiency from spending so much happy time in fantasy land imagining a better place. I want a table that more than two people can sit at, a real couch, a hallway, windows in more than one direction. My landlord has another efficiency that will be open when my lease expires next month. It's $40 more but has a little more space, windows on two walls, and a kitchen that's actually a separate room, so I might take it.

The question of living together is turning into a problem between me and Nona. Not that I'm pressing her to live with me; she was very clear about her decision and I have to live with it. There are corollary issues coming up, though. For instance, I decided that if we're going to be live-apart lovers long term, I need to spend at least four nights a week at home. I was spending five and six nights at Nona's every week and neglecting my cats and my hamsters. Also neglecting myself; spending nights at Nona's usually meant spending the whole evening with her, doing something together, so I had no time to myself at all.

I told Nona this, and she said, "You only want to spend three nights a week with me?"

I said, "No, you can spend some nights at my place. I just need to be there at least half the time."

Nona said, "Now, Harriet, why would you want us to sleep on your lumpy old double futon when we could sleep on my queen-size Posturpedic?"

I said, "I don't want us to sleep on the lumpy futon. I just want to spend some time at my own home. I'd like it if you'd spend time there with me."

Nona said, "I just can't see us hanging out at your tiny place, watching your tiny TV, and sleeping in your tiny bed."

I said, "Nona, you don't want to live with me. Therefore, I have an apartment at which I ostensibly live. Don't you think I should be there sometimes? Think about my poor cats."

Nona accused me of caring more about the cats than about her. I said, "No, but I do have a commitment to them."

She said, "And not to me?"

I said, "Nona, I want to sleep in my own bed and I want to be with my cats for more than five minutes a day."

Nona said, "Harriet, I can't sleep on that futon. It will wreck my back."

I said, "That's fine. You don't have to sleep there. I'd like it if you would, but it's fine if you don't. But I'm going to be there four nights a week."

Nona accused me of punishing her for refusing to live with me. I said, "Nona, you appreciate the rather subtle distinction between having a lover sleep at your house six nights a week and having her live with you. That distinction, which might seem minor to some, is important to you. Don't you see that it's important to me to be at my own place even if it's small and the bed is lumpy?"

Nona said, "I guess so. It's just that I'll miss you. And I'm afraid that you're pulling out on me because I won't let you move in. That's not what's going on, is it?"

I reassured her that whether I live with her or not, my feelings for her are the same. I still want to be with her as much as possible, and I love her more all the time.

But there's another complication. Nona doesn't know about it yet. See, Splash came over the other night. Romney is on a trip, driving across the country with some friends to an FTM conference in Seattle, so suddenly Splash has lots of time for me again. We were hanging out at my place playing video games, and Splash said, "So, are you and Nona monogamous?"

I said, "We haven't talked about it. I feel pretty committed, though, and neither of us is seeing anyone else."

Splash said, "I know, you're ready to move in with her. But you're not officially monogamous?"

I said, "No, not officially, I guess. Why?"

Splash said very casually, "Just wondering."

"Oh," I said, 'I get it. Romney is out of town. How long has it been?"

Splash said, "Harriet, do you think I'm coming on to you?"

"I know it," I said. "Give it up, Splash. I'm not going to sleep with you."

Splash said, "Aw, Harriet, give me a break. What harm could it do? Everybody knows we're just friends. What's a little sex between friends?"

I said, "I think it would upset Nona."

Splash said, "Doesn't it upset you that Nona won't live with you?"

"Of course it does," I said. "But hurting her by sleeping with you is not going to help."

"Maybe you only think she'd be upset. Maybe she doesn't care if you sleep with someone else," Splash said. "After all, you haven't talked about it. Maybe she doesn't want any kind of commitment with you."

She made me angry. "Doris, this is beneath you," I said. "Trying to play on my insecurities about Nona to get me into bed. What a good friend you are. How generous with your support around an issue you know is difficult for me."

"Damn it, Harriet, I'm sorry. But aren't you attracted to me any more?"

"Yeah," I said, "you know I am. And you're especially cute as a freshly-buzzed fuzz head, but-"

"I didn't only shave my head, Harriet," Splash said.

"You can't manipulate me with my fetishes," I said. "I'm stronger than that."

Splash grinned at me. "No you're not. You're a slave to your fetishes. I bet Nona doesn't even know what-all they are. But I do."

Reader, I slept with her. And I don't quite regret it. Nona knew when we started up that I have an on-again/off-again sex thing with Splash; that it's been off-again since then is hardly coincidental but neither does it bind me to anything. I foresee several difficult conversations with Nona, though, or one extremely long one: first I have to tell her I slept with Splash; then I need to tell her some of the reasons why, meaning I must reveal my leatherish tendencies; and finally Nona and I have to clarify our expectations around monogamy/non-monogamy, assuming we still have a relationship by that point. What a pickle.

Here's Louella coming home. Guess I'd better wrap this up and try to figure out where her children are so she doesn't think I've been neglecting them.

August 3, 1996

Guess I'll add a bit to this before I put it in the mail. Louella's lawyer didn't have good news for her. Apparently Sam has dug himself into a big financial hole this past year, with the help of a none-too-savory lover, and when Louella's lawyer spoke to Sam's lawyer about payment of back child support Sam's lawyer said, "Get in line." He did offer Louella a deal: Sam can start sending Louella bi-weekly checks if she will forgive the past debt and accept 60% of the settlement amount. Louella says, "Some deal," but she may have to accept on the basis that it's better than getting nothing.

Sam called Louella last night to play upon her sympathies, and his story is all about being taken advantage of by a good-looking schemer who weaseled his way into Sam's heart; encouraged Sam to "put himself first for a change"; discouraged Sam from seeing his children; convinced Sam to take him on several expensive vacations; and finally left with the contents of Sam's checking and savings accounts and several of Sam's credit cards. Sam, unable to believe he had been taken advantage of in such a horrible way and sure that there was some reasonable explanation (a family emergency the lover was too distraught to talk about, for instance) that he didn't get around to canceling the cards until most had been maxed out. Sam is being harassed by collection agents and may face foreclosure on his condo, and he has had no luck getting relief with the argument that the cards were stolen since he himself had requested duplicate cards in the lover's name and since he had not reported them stolen for nearly a week. He hopes Louella will forgive him and that they can just wipe the slate clean and start fresh.

Louella just laughed in his face. She says he screwed up and she's not letting him off the hook. But I confess I'm not optimistic about her seeing the money that's owed her.

On the bright side, a contrite Sam makes a better father. He's got the kids today and says he plans to get back into the visitation schedule. Louella is skeptical. She says, "Sure, he'll see the boys every Saturday until some new pretty boy comes along," but she sincerely hopes for the boys' sake that Sam is telling the truth.

Better go put this in the mail. Love you.

© Copyright 1994-1999 Su Penn. Design by David Dierauer.

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